You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. --FRANZ KAFKA

Monday, November 27, 2006

THE FACE IN THE NEWSPAPER: A short true story

There are certain places where you just feel good. Where the governing spirit is goodwill, where laughter is abundant and easy, where workers like their jobs, employers like their staff, and anyone fortunate enough to enter their orbit has no choice but to inhale good fellowship, and exhale whatever stress you may have carried to their doorstep.

There aren't a lot of them, but they're out there. The kindergarten class where every piece of art work, every level of ability, every personality is celebrated, the home where all the kids want to hang out because they feel welcomed, listened to, comfortable enough to go into the fridge and help themselves. I can't say what magic formula creates these little zones of affirmation and contentment, but you know it when you enter one.

Oddly enough, my accountant's office, the place we visit once a year, carrying a battered and miserable shoe box crammed with miscellaneous receipts, the W-2 forms that have been misplaced at least 3 times in preparation for the visit, and profuse apologies for the confused state of my finances and my life.

In my back pocket, reserved for later, is the chagrined promise that next year I will keep better records and schedule my appointment before April 14th. My accountant, "Tim," sees through my good intentions, but he humors me. He is an exceedingly patient man.

And even though he pretty much works around the clock as tax time rolls around, he schedule an extra long appointments with all his clients. An appointment with time enough to discuss the kids and the writing, to philosophize a bit over the state of the community and the state of the world, all sandwiched between the usual fare of deductions, exemptions, and tax tables. There's also time for his pretty wife, who exudes her own joie de vivre, to poke her head into the office and say she's heading over to the coffee shop. Would anybody like a cup?

Everything in his office, from the tasteful decor to the photographs of his fine children, his golden retriever, and the little league team he sponsors, seems to attest to a life that's rich in love, community and professional success.

Tim greets me every year as I slide into the chair clutching my miserable Shoe box like a favorite cousin who he hasn't seen since the last family wedding. The smile is that wide. It doesn't fade--even after I dump the contents of the miserable shoe box on his desk.

"Okay, let's start sorting," he says amiably, too kind to mention the obvious--that it would have been nice if I started signing before I left home. Or maybe back in January.

Tim's life was a happy story that turned abruptly dark last week.

On Wednesday, I gasped when I opened the newspaper and saw his photo under the headline, "Motorist killed in collision." I'm not sure whether I reeled more on seeing his face beneath those incongruous and incomprehensible words--or on learning that he was not the the victim in the accident. Tim had been cited with Driving while intoxicated and vehicular homicide.

I do not know the victim, but from the paper I've learned he was a relatively young man, an itinerant carpenter, a good son, and a single father who was raising am adolescent boy. He died in the middle of a cold highway on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon--probably on his way home from work.

I was reluctant to write about this because it involves the immense sorrow of two very real families. But it haunted me; it seemed to demand something from me. In the end, I felt compelled to write about it because it's so easy to make Tim's fatal error in judgment--especially at this time of year. That fatal error is not making prior transportation arrangements before you drink. As we all know, once you've imbibed, it's often too late for prudence and planning.

Could I have made a similar error at certain times in my life? Yes.

This case remains untried. Right now I'm still hoping that the paper got it wrong, that Tim is not responsible for a man's death. What I do know is that if he's guilty, this good man will serve prison time. But I also know that no matter how long Tim is sentenced to serve, it will not come close to being his greatest punishment.

Nothing will erase the memory of what happened on that road. Nothing can alter its finality.

There were so many times I could have been Tim (and, of course, we all have times we could be the unfortunate decedent). I mended my excessive drinking ways many years ago, but still, at times, a shudder passes through me when I think about it.

What a sad tale, and it just shows that behind every story in the papers there are real people, with real families, and friends, whose lives are changed by one momentous error of judgement. An error that by the sounds of the other comments and your own, could have been made my many of us, including myself.

You did the right thing writing about this, if your stark reminder encourages just one of your readers to think twice about drink driving then you may have just saved a life.

I thought I would have something new to contribute here, but I can only echo what everyone else here has said. My heart certainly goes out to not only the family of the victim, but to Tim's family who will be bearing a large part of this burden for quite some time.

Why "should" serve prison time? Such punishment does nothing to heal or amke amends for the life that was lost or the family torn asunder. Cases like this, where the apparent perpetrator is so obviously not a criminal, constitute the strongest argument for restorative rather than punitive justice, IMO. Thanks for a great post.- Dave Bonta (not sure if Blogger is sharing my identity today)

I hear what you're saying, Dave; but I think that society has to make a strong statement against drunken driving when it results in the loss of a life. Had I myself been the driver, I wouldn't feel differently. (At least, I hope I wouldn't.)

I recently read about the development of a technology that can sense the presence of excessive alcohol in the driver when he/she touches the steering wheel, and immediately shuts the car down. If it became standard operating equipment in all vehicles, it might prevent these tragedies from ever occurring.

What a terrible story, and what a shock. So so sad for everyone involved. Having even a thin thread of connection to an accident like that makes them seem so much more real, and possible, and frightening.

I think that society has to make a strong statement against drunken driving when it results in the loss of a life.Indeed. And this can be done, with heavy restitution in the form of years of civil service, weregild, etc. I just don't see the utility of putting someone in prison - to me, that simply compounds the crime (and at taxpayers' expense). The focus of justice should be on restoring harmony, not on exacting vengeance.

2. The family of the victim needs the community to stand up and say that the person who took their loved one's life did something egregious, and it not be tolerated. A prison sentence is not so much vengence as an acknowledgment that their loved one's life mattered, and that the loss of it represents a gross injustice. Community service has the feel of a slap on the wrist.

At the same time, the recent case (in New York, I think) where a drunk driver who killed a three year old was tried and convicted of murder horrified me.

What I would really like to see is the development and use of the technology now in the works that would detect the presence of excessive alcohol through the skin when the driver touched the steering wheel and shut the car down. I think it should become standard operating equipment in all vehicles.

This is such a tragic story - everyone's worst nightmare come to life - for both families. Thanks for sharing this story; a poignant reminder that everything can change in an instant, if we're not careful.

Tinker, you said it: No easy answers but more than enough sorrow to go around.

I'm reminded of a line from THE NIGHT GARDENER, a thoughtful suspense novel I recently read. In it, a detective says (something like) "No crime is ever truly solved. That would imply the victim could be returned to his family and his life."

About Me

My second novel, THE ORPHANS OF RACE POINT, an epic love story that spans several decades and is tested by murder, betrayal, faith, and destiny, set amidst the vibrant Portuguese community in Provincetown, Massachusetts will be published by Harper on January 7, 2014.